


surely something

by O Lord Heal This OAbsalom (OAbsalom)



Series: if i'm sincere today, what does it matter if i regret it tomorrow? [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crack, Discord: O Lord Heal This Server, Not-Very-Nice and Anatomically-Inaccurate Prophecies, Pride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OAbsalom/pseuds/O%20Lord%20Heal%20This%20OAbsalom
Summary: "Listen, we belong there as much as anyone, if what we've got going on here," Crowley gestured between them, "is gay or queer - or just if we want to tell the world these people deserve to be real bloody loud about who they are and have others be bloody loud for them."Wherein the boys prepare to attend a Pride Parade(OLHT[D]S crackfic)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: if i'm sincere today, what does it matter if i regret it tomorrow? [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733320
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54
Collections: The Not-Very-Nice and Anatomically-Inaccurate Prophecies of OLHTS





	surely something

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [**Not-So-Nice and Anatomically-Inaccurate Prophecies**](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/OLHTCrack) wherein O Lord Heal This (Discord) Server gets together with a terrible, ungodly crack prompt and writes our best worst fic in 300 words or less, average word count 1.5k. 
> 
> Thank you, my dearest [Veevethan (vol_ctrl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vol_ctrl) for all of your amazing work putting this monstrosity of an event together, keeping everyone on track, and delegating like a boss.
> 
> This week's prompt: "Our boys celebrate pride!"

"Oh-gh, I just-" Aziraphale murbled as Crowley pulled a t-shirt down over his head and tugged it around his soft love handles. "Why can't I just wear my waistcoat as usual?"

Crowley grinned. "Well, you could wear _just_ your waistcoat and a nice tight pair of knickers, I'd rather quite like to s--"

" _Crowley!_ Good Heavens!" He regarded himself in the mirror, the bright colours of the rainbow reflected back at him. "I don't see how this is our place, we're not even _gay,_ dear boy. Not even... Well, we're not really anything."

Crowley looked at him with a brief moment of hurt that shifted to annoyance. He rubbed an eyebrow. "We're being supportive, Angel. Damn humans, always picking some lot to burn at the stake. Besides, we're... _kind_ of gay? Sometimes. Other times we're n-- Listen, that's. You're really narrowing the spectrum of who this celebrates." He wrapped a shimmering multicoloured bow tie around the angel's bare neck and began to tie it.

"It just seems we don't belong. We don't have any of the horrible bother they torture one another with. A funny look every now and then, but we don't exactly have to struggle."

"Well, we _look_ like men. To the humans, we look like men in love... even if _'we're not really anything'_ ," he rolled his eyes and looked at Aziraphale's own. "So there should be some kind of solidarity there. You know the power in crowds, Angel. Isn't it our place to celebrate love, if it's ours or not?" He slipped a headband into Aziraphale's platinum curls.

Aziraphale's reflection revealed a pair of rainbow hearts, swaying on springs, sproinging wildly above his head. He leveled his eyes at Crowley's beaming face and pointed silently at the new accessory.

"Just feel lucky I'm not insisting on a matching tutu," he responded to the look and pointed down at his own waist to emphasize the tulle encircling it. "Listen, we belong there as much as anyone, if what we've got going on here," he gestured between them, "is gay or queer - or just if we want to tell the world these people deserve to be real bloody loud about who they are and have others be bloody loud for them."  
  
Aziraphale thought about the ebb and flow of humanity's hatred toward this huge subset of people. The times they could be loud and the (more often) times they'd been forced to be silent. He'd never have to face that - not in the same way. But he _had_ had to be silent about his own love to save his position in his life. To keep his home. To keep his family, horrible as they may have been. If he'd been able to sing or dance or scream about that in the streets, he'd have wanted the whole world and Heaven and Hell to celebrate alongside him, whoever they were. He looked again at the deely boppers bouncing about above his head.  
  
Crowley grabbed a gigantic boombox - where had he been keeping that old thing? - and beamed his bright smile again. "Besides, I hear a street over, there will be a group of protesters that need a few brightly-coloured inconveniences to befall them today."


End file.
